


count the moons

by tigerbox



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerbox/pseuds/tigerbox
Summary: raven and bellamy get left behind on earth. conveniently, or not so conveniently they are the last people on the planet. it's going to take the new adam and eve a little time to fall in love. years, maybe?





	

There's a whole lot of irony to the situation of being left behind. Like a full circle of it, Raven concludes. From the human race fleeing into space due to nuclear destruction, then being kicked out of space and down back to earth like little lab experiments, and then human race fleeing back into space due to earth being completely taken over by artificial intelligence. Raven decides the whole thing is just a slab of kismet in the form of blatant irony.  
  
It doesn't help that the only reason she's left behind is because of her fucking leg that stops her from being able to keep up with the others in boarding the ship. It also doesn't help that she's the reason that Bellamy gets left behind as well, because he was just so diplomatic about everything, to the bitter end, saying something dumb and trivial like " _no man left behind_ " while scooping her up in his arms, trying to trudge them out of the neck of the woods and get them to the ship in time to no avail. She tried to resist his chivalry, she reminds herself, wondering if that made it any less of her fault that he'd been left behind too.  
  
She supposes the proper reaction when she sees the spaceship orbit past the moon would be to get down on her knees and cry in the grass, tearing up the green stalks until it turns into mulch, staining the fabric at her knees, but she doesn't do it, because at this point all Raven can do is laugh. It's just too funny.  
  
Still, she feels a slight bit remorseful when she turns to her side and sees that yes, Bellamy, is reacting the proper way one should when they are left behind where there is no humanity left; hands full of weeds and dirt, tears streamlining down his face, regret of never being able to see his sister again with loud wails choking his sobs in the night sky.  
  
"I'm fine," he says, not really sounding like he means it. "I'm just going to get some air."  
  
Raven laughs again when Bellamy disappears into the woods because a) there's a huge chunk of wet grass situated on the back of his jeans when he stands up from his cry session, and b) there's nothing BUT air any direction they turn.  
  
  
  
  
It takes another twelve hours before Bellamy returns back to the campsite and acknowledges Raven's existence with an offering of a fresh apple.  
  
It takes another two days before Raven finally releases the joke she'd been holding back since the ship blew dust in her face.  
  
"Does this make us Adam and Eve? Part two?"  
  
Truthfully, they probably are the redux of Adam and Eve, being the only remaining mortals left on earth. But before they can even wrap their heads around it, they probably need to come to terms on where they are. Which Raven does real easy - being invalid had that affect on people. Bellamy on the other hand, still plays chess, makes war plans, acts like it's just another hurdle in his and Clarke's conquest to dominate the territory.  
  
  
  
  
"We need to go out there, Raven. We need to see if there's other survivors out there, we need to find them and get their aid. Maybe they can help us contact the ship and-"  
  
"If there's any survivors out there, there's nothing they can or will do to help us. And those up there-" she points up to the sky where the endless amount of stars seem to mock them almost, "They forgot about us already, five minutes into their flight with their cushy little seats and no worries about grounders or robots gone mad or mountain men."  
  
"No, we've got to see if others out there can help us contact them! You're smart Raven, maybe you can use one of the leftover batteries to contact them and try-"  
  
"No, Bellamy I'm done with all that. From here on I'm just going to live. I just want to be free. I deserve it," she takes a big breath, closing her eyes, finally letting the oxygen around envelope her, like they'd come down for in the first place, "we both do."  
  
She waits for him to fight back and holler, and for her to counter back - not that there's anything else left she has to say. But Bellamy doesn't say much more, probably too caught up in thinking of ways to venture out on his own. Still she can't miss the disappointment when his jaw slackens, sad that Raven Reyes, the last of his kind was just too fucking tired to listen to his lead anymore.  
  
It's another kind of defeat Bellamy's not ready to accept from this world.  
  
  
  
  
  
The good news is, they still have the campsite and stocked food for hundreds saved now for only two. The campsite looks bigger than Raven remembers with no one around, eerily quiet and deserted, her bum leg clanging against the metal floor of the old ship, echoing through the corridors. She mostly stays in one section, choosing to huddle in Sinclair's old bunk, trying to familiarize herself with his belongings, the last linger of his smell before she forgets. She rarely ventures out, occasionally leaving to water her new makeshift farm, forging seeds from the vegetables and fruits that Bellamy catches, other days only leaving to watch the last bit of sunset.  
  
There's stretches of time where her and Bellamy don't even cross pass for days, occasionally for a few weeks. She doesn't ask where he goes and what he's up to because she knows he's just wandering out further and further into the woods, looking for any last hope of survivors, any more of the human race, knows it's just a split hair before he goes out and never comes back.  
  
"I've got cabin fever." he explains once, on a rare day when he comes out to her in the back and assists her in planting the potato seeds. Although she refuses to express it, Raven is grateful that Bellamy's the one on the ground, hands and knees buried in soil, giving her a rest. She fingers at the gauze of her bandaged knee, in sympathetic pain when Bellamy reaches the end of the row, struggling to get up, manure and dirt crowding at his knees. He looks up at her, sledged beneath dirt, heavy brown eyes muddled beneath sweat and a sticky mat of hair.  
  
"I need a break."  
  
"No, you need a haircut."  
  
  
  
  
She sort of expects him to resist it, flail around like a wimpy five year old, but she's taken aback at how well mannered he behaves, even when she accidentally knocks the pair of dull scissors into the back of his neck and nicks him a little.  
  
"Causing bodily harm isn't part of the deal Reyes."  
  
"Ok shut it or that's not the only thing that's going to get sliced-  
  
_kidding!!!-_  
  
turn back around now so i can concentrate."  
  
It's oddly soothing snipping at Bellamy's loose and overgrown curls, watching the locks fall and disappear somewhere along the ground. She aims for a short cut, only stopping below the back of his ears.  
  
"I feel naked, are you sure you are doing this right?"  
  
"Shut up," Raven counters, smacking the back of his head a little lightly. "This is going to make you feel a lot more refreshed when you harvest the tomatoes for me tomorrow."  
  
"I'm harvesting tomatoes for you now? Thanks for keeping me in the loop."  
  
"You're welcome," Raven makes her way to the front of Bellamy, trying to figure out a way to make his hair less lopsided. "And shut up because I'm not done yet."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Shut up." she bends down slightly, almost at eye level of the obedient Bellamy on a stool, sliding her fingers into the remainder of his loose curls in the front, trying to get a feel of the weight. She tangles her fingers into his bangs, pushing them back against his forehead, and then forward again, in a play to see what looks better. The scissors remain aloof in her other hand, sitting just at the nape of his neck, the cool metal tingling his skin. She pushes his bangs back again, letting her fingers get tangled in the black locks, little ringlets escaping every time she repeats the motion. Bellamy allows her to do so, closing his eyes and savoring the motion. It's the first time either of them have touched each other in months, ever since the whole running in the woods but not fast enough debacle, and although Raven doesn't want to be the first to say anything, it's kind of nice.  
  
"You done yet?" Bellamy opens his eyes after a while, choosing to be smarmy about it, grabbing Raven's wrist and pulling her frantically when he realizes she'd been closing her eyes too. "Not sure how effective that method's going to be."  
  
  
  
  
Bellamy doesn't have much of a retort when he realizes she's given him an almost crew razor short of a cut. Instead he palms the shortness of his hair with his hands, not much left to feel, throwing her daggers with his eyes. Raven accepts it kindly, because at least she can see his eyes better this way.  
  
"It'll grow out," she merely shrugs, tossing him a potato over their makeshift dinner bench.

  
  
  
In space they didn't have rain.  
  
And while Raven finds the slabs of water crashing from the sky fascinating, it makes her bum leg ache something severe. It's the first night of the storm and Raven just watches the sky fall in fascination, still unable to get used to the occurrence. She bends down squeezing her knee, unwrapping it from the bandages she usually keeps it wrapped in, the swelling of it too much to take underneath all the layers. She's left her sweater inside somewhere, and she's pretty sure she's going to catch a cold this way but the rain is beautiful and she watches it in silence, willing her pain to go away.  
  
"I cannot stand this shit," Bellamy pops out of nowhere through the rain, covering his ears as thunder and lightening chase him from behind, "it's loud and unnecessary and my hair misses being dry."  
  
"At least you don't look like a mangy rat anymore," Raven proposes, always seeing the brighter side of things. "I mean with the lack of hair and all."  
  
Bellamy gives her a look, then glances at the layers of gauze and bandages to the floor. "What have you been up to?"  
  
Raven, not one to back down, gives Bellamy the same look back, pointing to wherever Bellamy's just walked from, "What have you been up to?"  
  
He lifts up his shoulder in nonchalance, and then so does she.  
  
"Can we go inside? I'm going to shoot myself if I have to hear another clap of thunder again."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Funny." Bellamy starts making his way past her inside the quarters before Raven timidly pulls at his right arm, her fingers almost losing grip from the raindrops.  
  
"Bellamy," she hates herself for even having to ask, hates how her voice suddenly sounds so small and weak, so uncharacteristically independent.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Can you help me back in? The rain's making my leg numb. I can't feel it."  
  
There's no hesitation on his part to corner back and sweep her into his arms for the second time since their isolation. It comes so smoothly with no expectation, he just does it, cupping her around his arms, not forgetting to pick up the scraps of her bandages from the ground while he's at it, like an expert. She feels a bit breathless from the suddenness of it all, the sensation of being lifted off the ground, and into his arms like a safe haven, something that's probably so easy for him to do, but so incredibly hard for her. She tries not to feel bitter about it, silently just watching his expression as he carries into the dry enclave, bold arms fitting under her so perfectly, like she'd meant to be molded into his arms. He doesn't put her down until they are in one of the rooms, his old one, and he settles her into the bed, tucking her underneath the covers like she'd grown terribly sick overnight and never recover.  
  
"Shit. You're going to get sick wearing that. Where's your dry clothes at?"  
  
It's probably a bad idea for her to sweep a hand into whatever's remaining of his hair, when he returns with a fresh set of clothes for her, letting the last of the raindrops fall loosely into her hands. It's a bad idea, but he lets her, never breaking eye contact while she does so. It's all a bad idea to begin with anyway.

 

"Maybe it's like Zeus and all the other gods are against me." Bellamy is saying, inviting himself into Raven's den the second night it rains.  
  
"Or maybe," she stops working on the heating device she's trying to create and tosses Bellamy a sympathetic, sarcastic pout. "It's them up there in the spaceship, laughing at our misery, sending us down rain as one last sucks to be you sort of thing."  
  
"My sister would never partake in that," he sits down next to Raven, and then contemplates it, "actually maybe she would."  
  
"I always liked your sister you know," Raven thinks about them all way too often - Octavia, Jasper, Monty, Miller, even Clarke, "but what are you doing Bellamy?"  
  
Bellamy somehow has snuck on to the deep side of Raven's bed, curling himself in her sheets, snuggling himself against the pillow. Hers.  
  
"Oh come on. I couldn't sleep at all last night after you felt better and ditched me in the rain. I had these coma inducing nightmares."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So. Just let me crash here with you tonight. Besides, you owe me." he attempts to bat his eyelashes over the pillow like an overgrown puppy. "Look I'll be real quiet. You won't even know I'm here. I'll sleep while you work on...whatever that thing is."  
  
"I'm trying to make a heating device so it's not always so freezing in here."  
  
"That's brilliant. You're brilliant."  
  
"Are you sucking up to me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay, well, now that that's clear. You do see another bed on the other side of this room right? The spare bed."  
  
"C'mon Raven. I'm like a needy pet at this point. Throw me a bone."  
  
"You mean boner?"  
  
Bellamy throws the pillow at Raven, then head feeling sore at the lack of support, gets back up to fetch it.  
  
"Fine, fine you scaredy cat."  
  
Bellamy tries not to look to excited, lips turning upward in a smile when Raven just nods back, determined to look as focused as possible on her heating pad that isn't going anywhere no matter how much she twerks it. This is going to conveniently take her all night.  
  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes pass before Bellamy can't stay still any longer, rustling the sheets so loudly Raven gets the precise feeling he's not sleeping all along.  
  
"You almost done with that?"  
  
"Not even close."  
  
"I can't sleep with the lights on."  
  
"That's pretty rare for a scaredy cat."  
  
"C'mon...don't you want to sleep too?"  
  
Raven looks behind her, where Bellamy is doe eyed and glossy looking in her bed.  
  
"There's someone sleeping in my bed already."  
  
"Plenty of space."  
  
"I didn't take you for much of a cuddler," she says, snapping off the light and inevitably crawling into her bed like a displaced stranger.  
  
"I'm not into romantic shit," he insists, but he's already placing a heavy arm around her waistline the second the light clicks off. It's a weird feeling and Raven's not sure she can get used to it, the feeling of someone so close to her, someone in such personal proximity. Bellamy's short intakes of breath seem to increase tenfold in the dark, so loud behind her, the hotness of his breath flaming the back of her neck as he comes closer, trying to find a way to mold themselves together and make them both comfortable. Spooning is what they call it, Raven recalls, the action of someone holding you close from behind in a means of comfort and familiarity. But it's not familiar at all, the sensation of Bellamy's arm hairs prickling her smooth one, the feel of his knees knocking into the back of his hers, trying to be fragile with her sensitive one, the curve of her ass molding back into his front side, meeting something heavy.  
  
"This is nice," Bellamy moves forward, surrounded by pitch black, and Raven can feel the hairs on the back of her neck prick up when he bends over to whisper it into her ear, "good."  
  
"Yeah," Raven says, snapping her eyes shut, seeing black either way. She's nervous, and she is so angry at herself for being so fucking nervous, because a part of her supposes that this was going to happen eventually, there's no way they would avoid contact with each other for eternity, but maybe she just doesn't expect it so soon, or rather - so much on Bellamy's intiative.  
  
That's it, she realizes, practically squirming under the sheets, that's what unnerves her - the unpredictably of his behavior.  
  
"What?" he sounds a little startled when Raven accidentally sinks a toenail into his ankle, "you're feeling all tense."  
  
"It's the rain," she lies, willing herself to memorize the pattern of the rainfall pattering down on the metal roof. It's all she allows herself to hear, even when Bellamy lifts his arm away from her waist side, instead extending his fingers lightly down her arm and to the end of her own fingers.  
  
"You said you weren't scared of the rain," he whispers into her ear again, playing the game expertly.  
  
"I'm scared of a lot of things Bellamy." her body is completely clenched and frigid but it's no surprise that Bellamy is able to relax it with those fingers, snaking them down the side of her waistband and then up to the edge of her shirt again, pausing where her stomach starts. She feels herself letting go into his hold, somehow unconsciously moving her frame back so that she's pressed firmly against him with no space in between.  
  
"Relax," his words fall somewhere between the heat of her neck and the locks of her hair, his fingers exploring beneath her shirt, palming the bareness of her stomach underneath the sheets. She can feel him grow heavy behind her, not much left to hide it, and she extends her ass back into him until he lets out a little groan. That's all it takes really before he retracts his fingers from her abdomen and lets them dip below, pushing under her waistband and down her underwear, snaking his hand under the fabric.  
  
"Bellamy," she means it as a form of hesitation, but her voice purrs against her will, so demure and wanton as his fingers extend and dance on her skin before planting themselves inside her with some force. She almost doubles over from how good it feels, but also so foreign, the way he moves his index finger upwards and then in a circular motion, extending his thumb the other direction inside her softly and then pushing it back out before repeating, like a full throttle, moist liquid dripping into the backside of his fingernails. She curls the sheets into her fists, not expecting so much pleasure, eyes shut tight, and then he's taking his free hand, pulling it up her shirt, underneath her bra wire-frame, cupping at her breasts, the magnitude of them feeling so round and firm. His fingers pulsate around her nipples, tugging them in a similar motion to the fingers around her clitoris and Raven thinks she's going to die.  
  
"Bellamy," she moans this time, letting her own hand go down on him as a distraction, anything to steer him from making her come too fast. Catching him off guard with too much pull of a tug he keens forward, chin angling down on her shoulder.  
  
"Shit Raven," he grunts, still keeping up the same movements as she tries to calibrate her own hand to match, pulling and slicking her hand with less of a rhythm and more intensity, but it seems to work because he pants faster in her ear, "Shit, Raven."  
  
"This doesn't have to mean anything," she says out loud, mostly for herself when Bellamy stops responding to her magnanimous strokes and scraping lithe fingernails, instead pulling her under him, dominating, bare shoulders bulging above her in the abysmal light. He looks fearful almost, his body raging with heat, muscles pulsing with sweat, his thick thighs overpowering her slender ones, feeling the weight of him above her. But there's also the other thing, Bellamy Blake's sweet gentle hands roaming around her skin, playing a soft note around the edges of her hips before falling into her hair, tucking a finger or two behind her hair before he enters her slowly. Raven feels nothing and then everything at once.  
  
"You know it does, Raven."  
  
  
  
  
The second time Raven Reyes experiences the true meaning of irony is the morning after when Bellamy is nowhere to be found.  
  
  
  
  
It's another fifty-eight days and some hours before she sees him again. Not that she'd count it, of course.  
  
  
  
His hair is unruly again, but somehow still short, as if he'd spent some time in the unknown trying to manage the short crop Raven had bestowed on him except failing spectacularly. She's not really that surprised that there's new bruises down his cheekbone, imagines there'd be a couple of new ones elsewhere as well. He stands on the wayside of the pond, not venturing closer for some minutes, presumably either to gauge her reaction or let her make a move first.  
  
If this was another day, another age maybe the appropriate response would be to run into his arms, leap into them as he extended them outstretched, and share a passionate kiss with miles untold of "Oh, yes, I do love you, Bellamy Blake and welcome home!"  
  
But this is her reality.  
  
And the reality is that Raven has taken her brace off to plant the hard to sow seeds and it's taking a bitch to sink into the soil, and it's requiring all her attention.  
  
So she can't get up to greet him. (And frankly, if she could, she's pretty sure her reaction would be more of a punch to the gut rather than a kiss, so.)  
  
"I bring you presents Reyes." he dumps a large sticky crate on the floor, large eyes moony and lovesick, waiting for her to lock her eyes back into his.  
  
Raven shrugs and doesn't bother to look up. The onion seed she's trying to plant has attached itself into the muddy soil in the wrong direction and it's driving her up the wall.  
  
It's only when Bellamy finally retreats inside and stops lurking around the corner that Raven gets up and observes what's inside the crate.  
  
Four things: a dead headless chicken. _Meat! Meat! Meat! Fucking meat!_ And Raven's stomach churns in a good way. A discombobulated sort of wires that Raven has no idea does what - probably something Bellamy thinks she would, a makeshift coil of metal shaped into a round daft loop - presumably something he thinks Raven can use as an upgraded brace and who knows how long it took him to make it and with what exactly - and a white flower with immensely large petals that was absolutely beautiful.  
  
In the history books, they called it a lily. In Raven's world, it's called a lousy apology.  
  
  
  
  
It's another two weeks, well, thirteen days - before Raven actually uses her voice. Her voice sounds rusty and off kilter, and she has to take a few sharp intakes of breath before she gets anywhere. She takes the seat opposite of Bellamy on the lunch table. He looks older oddly, she thinks, seeing him this close and personal for the first time in ages. Also, so inherently vulnerable.  
  
"You're such a fuckboy, Bellamy."  
  
There's hurt behind those mahagony eyes and while Raven knows the natural instinct is to feel bad, she doesn't really. She's got no remorse. Still, the wiltered and browned remnants of the lily sit idly between her fingers and she plays with the end of the stalk while waiting for him to say something better than _'I'm sorry.'_  
  
"I'm sorry." Bellamy extends his hand out, trying to reach for one of Raven's. The feel of his skin upon hers is unfamiliar and she retreats her hand back. "I freaked at the romantic shit."  
  
"Don't you get it? I'm stuck down here with you forever." Raven throws the dead lily into his face, watching his eyes go rounder in pain. "If I pulled that shit that you do and ran into the woods, you would kill yourself in one day."  
  
"I'm an awful being," Bellamy surmises, probably and suddenly thinking about everything he's ever done wrong as a leader, a brother, a person, a non-boyfriend to Raven, eyes going wider and wider. "but there's a reason I keep coming back to you."  
  
"Because I'm all you got," Raven concludes, "and you can't stand the rain by yourself."  
  
They don't say anything else for a while. Maybe it's true, but Raven doesn't pull her hand back when Bellamy reaches for it a second time. She doesn't pull back when he makes his way over the table either, burying himself into her in an intimate and overcompensating hug, warm lucid hands on her back, crook of his neck so painstakingly close to the edge of her lips, the edges of his ungroomed beard itching the softness of her jaw.  
  
"I don't accept apologies that easily. First go catch me another chicken for dinner." She breaks away from the hug, two seconds before Bellamy can embrace her in one of those whirlwind end of the world type of kisses.  
  
  
  
  
It takes another two months before Raven lets Bellamy kiss her, like really kiss her. (After he kisses her toes and fingers and has dirt permanently embedded underneath his fingers after maintaining her vegetable farm during a particularly rainy storm.)  
  
  
  
  
It takes another sixty days before she lets him go down on her, in the safe haven of his bed (After he lets her cut his hair because it grows unruly and curly and Raven decides she hates it that way forever.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It takes another hundred and eighty seven days before she accepts his apology. (After he verbally promises to never run away from his fears again and says something akin to _I love you._ )  
  
"But Raven, if I say I love you, you gotta say it back." Bellamy proposes, in between soft kisses to her temple and a rough one to her neck. By this time, the vegetable and fruits have all been farmed, sowed, reaped, harvested, plowed and blossomed, so the only thing that bides her time is naked ravage fests with Bellamy in the tall pleats of grass under the moonlight. It's not like anyone would see them or the remnants of her forgotten brace strewn by the pond.  
  
Sometimes, Bellamy brings out the wax and makes impromptu candles with whatever's melted. On other days, he goes out to the woods (but only for a a few hours at a time), and comes back with a crate full of lilies, encasing them around Raven until she's totally surrounded. Romantic shit. Raven convinces herself that her heart doesn't flutter, but Bellamy can look so mischievously cute, especially when he cowers anytime there's a thunderclap.  
  
"I'll think about it," Raven casually suggests, thinking about it all the same. When Bellamy kisses her back in a form of persuasion, Raven swears like she can see a familiar star twinkling in the skyline.  
  
Yes, she probably loves him back too but it's not like there was anything else to love in this world. Besides, it wouldn't hurt him to wait for the answer for another few months.  
  
  
  
  
They've got all the time in the world.  
  
The irony of it all; survival accomplished.


End file.
